Sleep
by rievene
Summary: A certain demigod watches Annabeth as she sleeps. Oneshot.


**A/N**: This is my first Percy Jackson fic. Please understand that I haven't exactly been the best at consistently updating my stories, so my writing's still a bit rusty. If there are any mistakes, feel free to point them out through PN, but please don't flame or be rude about it. Anyways, hope you enjoy the story!

* * *

There was always at least one time, at one point or another—whether I liked it or not—that I would end up watching her sleep. Yeah, I know. Creepy. But it's not what you think it is.

Is it?

I'm not very sure myself, though I am sure that Athena would probably blast me to bits if I ever admitted this to her face. But I don't mean to be a stalker or anything. I mean it—I couldn't help myself.

Great. That sounds even creepier.

But every time we'd go on a quest—big, like the time we went off to find Zeus's lightning bolt (I can hear you laughing), or small, like the time we went out to hunt that pack of wild hellhounds with Thalia as a part of our training—whenever we'd taken the time to rest and she'd fallen asleep, I just kind of…

…ended up watching her.

I'd watch her, her left arm thrown over the side of her waist and head tilted to the side so her cheek _just_ grazed her blond hair, which would be sprawled over on either side of her shoulder.

Her eyelids would rest right above the grey eyes that would always flash whenever something would tick her off, or right before she was about to clock me in the arm, or maybe on the chance that she happened to come upon a piece of parchment back at camp—old and torn at the sides, but she wouldn't care. All that mattered would be the components of that parchment, as her eyes would slightly widen in excitement as to finding whatever was inside. It could be blueprints for the structure of a standard cabin at camp, or draft paper left over from some ancient Greek dude's projects that he'd given up on.

There were lots of kids in the Athena cabin with grey eyes. But I honestly didn't think much of them. They might not be any different to other people, but if you'd seen her eyes—you'd just know. You'd see the difference. The way she'd look at you, whether she'd be really ticked or really excited about something—if you saw her eyes, you'd agree. Probably.

I'd watch her sleep, as her chest would rise and fall with each steady breath. It's not like she tried to look good. In fact, she could have been less concerned about her appearance than Typhon could have been with Juniper's special enchiladas that she only makes for Grover. Or maybe he just hasn't tried them before. But that's not the point.

As I would watch her, I'd go through the course of the events that took place that day, running the images through my mind like an unusually fresh, yet old tape. It's weird. I can remember all the big stuff, like Grover being forced into a dress back with the giants a few years ago, or being zapped into a guinea pig by Circe—but I guess I can thank my ADHD for making my memory fuzzy whenever I try to remember any specific details. I can recall them, but not when I want to.

It's different with her.

When I try to remember everything that happened that day, I have no problem seeing her run through the woods again, or tucking her hair in her Yankees cap and sneaking behind some monster that probably hadn't seen it coming. I have no problem remembering how she'd wipe the sweat from her forehead after wrestling with a drachnae. I have no problem remembering how she'd occasionally pull out some ambrosia because I may or may not have gotten hurt during a battle.

I have no problem remembering how she'd scowl, grit her teeth, roll her eyes or smile whenever I'd say something remotely stupid.

Usually I'd realize at some point that I was staring at her, curse myself for letting my guard down, and shove my head back to the ground and tell myself to go to sleep. But that never worked. I'd just raise my head and go back to watching her rest. Rarely would I get paranoid and wonder if her mom or some god up there would be watching me, watching her. But so what? Do I care? Maybe.

But I can't help it.

There was this one time, _one_ time during a mission meant for training back at camp, before going into the Labyrinth.

I couldn't sleep. I tried resting my head where my feet were, lying on my side, rolling on my other side, counting backwards, counting backwards in Greek, stopping once I'd given myself a headache, all sorts of things. I think I might have even muttered a small prayer to Morpheus, though I'm not too sure. Whatever it was, nothing worked.

So I lifted my head and looked around to see if anyone else was sleeping. Sure enough, everyone had dozed off by then, including Grover. I remember nudging him in the side to try and see if he'd wake up, but I decided better once he started thrashing around, crying, "No! Cyclopes—get away…!"

So I laid down in front of the dying fireplace in silence.

I was unusually calm. On nights like this, I'd go off and take a walk or something—assuming the area was somewhat safe—but I wasn't itching to get up and move or anything, which was weird. My ADHD wasn't acting up, though I guess that might've been a good thing.

My eyes drifted over to Thalia, who was resting on her side, wild black hair sprawled over the hard floor as she slept. Grover was snoring a bit, but otherwise he was fine. I heard him mumble something about enchiladas, but I decided to ignore it as my eyes slowly came to rest on Annabeth—and my heart did a little relay race in my chest.

Gods, she was beautiful. She was lying on her back and snoozing quietly, and not a single sound escaped her. I chuckled as I recalled hearing her snore back in Vegas, before the Lotus Casino and Hotel. It seemed like it was just yesterday that she'd been feeding me pudding in bed, the day after I thought I'd lost my mom to the Minotaur.

I rolled over on my side, propping my head up by the elbow and watching Annabeth as she continued to sleep. I don't know how long it had been, but at one point she started to stir. I quickly darted my head down to the ground, pretending to be asleep—right as I heard some more shuffling, I thought I was a goner. _Just wait until she finds out you've practically been stalking her in her sleep,_ a tiny voice in the back of my head told me. _Beckendorf will never let you hear the end of it._ I braced myself for the humiliation—until I heard something that sounded suspiciously like a whimper.

I peeked out of one eye to see what was up. Then I blinked, opening both my eyes as I did so.

One of Annabeth's arms had shifted over to meet the other in front of her as she lay on her side like I did; but her expression seemed different from before, almost pained. I cautiously raised a hand and waved it to see if she was awake. Nothing.

Another sound escaped her lips—but this time, it seemed like she was saying something, forming a word for me to comprehend…or maybe it was a name. After a moment's hesitation, I gingerly scooted closer to her.

"…ke…"

What?

"…Luke…"

My heart froze.

My eyes cast over Annabeth, who was now murmuring in her sleep.

_Luke._

I should've known. Who else would she have been dreaming about? The curiosity that had taken over my head suddenly brought forth a flurry of thoughts, half of them tinged with anger, the other filled with lot more jealousy than I would have liked to admit. But how could I ever compete with Luke? He was tall, popular with nymphs and all sorts of girls back at camp, one Chiron's (former) best when it came to fighting, and he was a lot older. Screw betrayal, Annabeth had said. They had a closer bond that I'd never truly get to understand. In fact, I'm pretty sure his turning over to Kronos added points to the whole "I-have-a-crush-on-this-guy-but-I-never-got-to-tel l-him-before" thing. Annabeth had known Luke since she was seven. We'd only met in middle school.

Irritated and somewhat disgruntled, I turned to go back to my original position. I would try to forget what Annabeth had said and go to sleep. I'd had enough thoughts of Luke for one night.

"No—dad. I didn't know…I didn't try to…"

I turned.

Annabeth started to cry.

I was stunned. Demigods usually dreamed about stuff relating to some prophecy or whatever, if not nightmares. I knew Annabeth probably wasn't all too different, but it was pretty strange—if not a bit discomforting—to see her cry in her sleep. It wasn't the wailing kind, but it was a quiet, calm sort of crying, if you know what I mean.

I shifted my weight onto my left side, scooting closer to Annabeth (with some hesitancy) to…to what? I wasn't sure what I would do. Would I comfort her? How? I wasn't exactly all that smooth with words, and even if I was, it wouldn't matter. She was asleep, and as far as I know there's no way to really calm someone who's sleeping without waking them up. And if Annabeth knew that I'd seen her cry in her sleep, I'd probably end up with a bruised arm or two.

I thought for a moment, and gingerly extended a hand towards her.

At first she flinched. I immediately retreated and sank back into the shadows, but it seemed like her response was just out of instinct. She didn't wake up, and I drew my hand to rest on her shoulder once more.

I don't know how it happened, but somehow I started to awkwardly pat her shoulder, seeing if it would do any good. I didn't reach for her back or anything, considering that would probably double the chances of me getting that bruised arm I'd bet you before. But after a while, she seemed to calm down. She kept murmuring in her sleep, mentioning her dad or Luke in broken phrases every once in a while.

Every time she said Luke's name, it felt like a kick in the gut. I didn't understand why she liked him so much. He'd gone off to the bad side, Kronos's side. He'd left us in the dirt to get more power, and hadn't given a thought about Annabeth before he'd gone. So why did she still care about him?

Anyways, I kept patting her arm, occasionally stroking the sleeve of her shirt so as to calm her down. Eventually, the muttering died down. The names weren't there anymore. She stopped crying.

I sighed. Sometimes I would wonder how much pain it was that she'd gone through her life; I can't say mine was very easy, but I had a mom who cared about me. I had a mom who'd taken the time to bring in blue jelly beans after work and sign me up for school and to tell me how much she loved me, though it was a bit embarrassing at times. I had a mom who hadn't resented me for what I was, or who I was. But Annabeth…

"…Percy."

The name drew me out of my stupor, and I blinked once more. I lowered my gaze back onto Annabeth, who was sleeping peacefully now, leaving out a few murmurs in the process.

Murmurs, similar to the one I'd just heard.

I leaned in closer to see her face, as though it would help me register the fact that she'd called my name in her sleep.

She didn't say anything else. She just went right back to sleeping. Only "Percy", and that was it. I thought it was over, but imagine my surprise as I watched her eyebrows scrunch, and relax…

…as something glistened on the side of her face, next to her eye.

I leaned in closer, painfully aware of the gradually decreasing distance between us. I didn't know what I was about to do, nor was I aware of the reason as to why my hand was drifting from Annabeth's shoulder up to her face.

My fingers slowly grazed her cheek, and I wiped away the tear that had started to roll down her skin.

"Annabeth," I said, quietly.

I didn't say anything else. I just stayed there, watching her sleep. I stayed there, watching her dream and breathe and live. There was nothing else that mattered. The crickets stopped chirping, the wind stopped blowing. Everything seemed to pause for that moment. I don't know what it was that made me move, but I did.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to her forehead, gently. I pulled back almost immediately, but as I laid there I continued to watch her, hand gliding from her cheek to her hair, stroking her light curls as I let out what seemed to be a drawn-out sigh. The fire flickered behind us, and everything seemed to come back to life again. The wind started to blow. The grass blades swayed back and forth in the fields, between the trees. The crickets chirped.

I leaned in once more, long eyelashes and leftover training scars coming into view as I did so. I was only vaguely aware of the marginal distance between our lips now, and I whispered again.

"…Annabeth."


End file.
